"Yongguk hasn't come to work for the last couple of days." Himchan noted, but the other two just nodded along, too immersed in Yongguk's neglected work load to fully engage in conversation. Since Zelo left he had been pulling a few sick days and naive Himchan was starting to worry. He sighed, but continued to work, wading through dozens of complaints from patients. It seemed that Yongguk was pretty popular.

Yongguk's empty home had grown accustomed to an eerie feel that smothered him. Not spending an adequate amount of time in there had left the structure with an abused atmosphere. He dove into a novel, mindlessly skimming through paragraphs and chapters without any word or punctuation seeping into his distracted mind, Yongguk had always been detached intellectually from society, but he had never been alone. Not until now.

"Yongguk. You're becoming too much like your father. Have some fun in your life."

Yongguk ignored her.

"Bang Yong Guk, you will listen to your mother now."

Reluctantly he looked up to see an angry woman with her hands on her hips. She wore her favourite paint splattered overalls that she always wore when she was painting, a passionate hobby of hers.

"You don't have to isolate yourself, don't you have friends?"

He did have friends, whether he liked it or not. Though he turned a blind eye, Yongguk had a significant amount of people who cared about him. A lot of people who would turn up at his funeral if he died. However there was one person he knew fine well would not attend.

"What about your girlfriend and son?"

"I don't have a son."

His mother smiled, finally eliciting a reaction from her son. She giggled playfully, wanting to test his patience further, another less active hobby of hers.

"Wasn't your girlfriend pregnant?"

Yongguk shook his head.

"That's a shame. You know I always wanted a grandson."

Yongguk's patience snapped. He threw the book in her direction, eyes bulging as he saw it slice straight through her and hit the wall where she stood with an almighty crash. He regained his posture, the feeling of fury oozing from every open pore.

"THAT'S YOUR FAULT THAT YOU CAN'T SEE YOUR GRANDSON."

"No. It's yours."

The metallic laugh chimed again. Her head snapped in the direction of the front door, her long locks shivering in fear. Suddenly, almost on cue, he heard a loud banging on the door. Before he could move to open it, a key turned and opened the heavy wooden door.

"Who are you shouting at?" Before him stood a shocked Himchan. Yongguk tried to string a sentence together, failing miserably. Himchan smiled and dangled a set of keys before him, showing that he has his own means of getting into his friends house. Yongguk noticed a similar panda bear keychain. The same keychain he got Jieun on their first date, some years back.

"Why do you have that keychain?" Yongguk asked, his voice monotone. He found it difficult to muster up any form of emotion into his question.

"No reason, I just like it." Himchan winked at Yongguk.

"I don't remember giving you the keys to my place."

"You have a bad memory."

Yongguk raised an eyebrow.

"Yongguk, you look pretty well. Come back to work, yeah?"

Yongguk nodded, feigning a genuine smile that got Himchan to leave. He promised to meet them back in an hour. Once he left, Yongguk slid to the floor, the muscles in his body turning to pure jelly, refusing to move. In the short time that Himchan was there, Yongguk felt nothing. No happiness to see his friend. No relief to know that he cared. Beside him lay a wad of work that toppled onto the floor earlier from the impact of the book that skimmed past it. He looked at the name on the manilla folder. Choi Junhong. In a wave of anger, Yongguk threw it towards the glass coffee table, causing a ceramic coffee mug to hit the laminate flooring with a fragile clink. The mug did not smash, but visible fractures painted the surface, resembling veins. Yongguk could empathise.

He looked up at the folder he threw. The picture slipped out. Zelo's picture. The doctor choked up a nervous sob, not knowing what was going on. With his body. With his mind. With the boy.